Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Day 566: poems

writing you poems is like peeling hnagnails from under my tongue
burns like vodka
cold on my throat
kisses like your fingertips
drenched in sweat
in something else
in me

thinking of you
is like writing eulogies in body movement
in sanscript
in things we can leave behind
that will not be forgotten
that the world prayers over
wanting to know the significance of

i cant seem to finish anything i start
you cant seem to stay long enough to notice
i'm great at beginings
can pull you in easy
but have trouble holding on
writting anything that is anywhere near an end
anything that would make you stay.

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